How he hates it all.

The hallways are impeccably clean, gleaming floors and pale grey walls with elegant abstract paintings. The fragrance of fresh flowers is mixed with the tinge of sterileness. Clear green glass doors swoosh open and close as well heeled clientals saunter through.

Jimin scrunches his nose and zooms his focus back to the paperwork at hand. Being the youngest doctor on staff, he's nevertheless well versed in the rules of the game. Here, at the most elite hospital of Seoul, the stench of excess fills every corner of the place. There’s a huge wing built just for the VIP clients, separated from the rest, with the top doctors bowing down out of greed.

It’s not what he became a doctor for, coming from a poor family and spending all of his youths studying and slaving away during residency. Jimin has always wanted to help people, to save the ones people deemed unworthy of saving. But he’s not blind - you have to work the system to get ahead. In this hospital, he can perform every surgery with the most cutting edge technology, and the clients will agree to the most expensive prototype treatments without blinking an eye.

So Jimin finds another way to appease his mind. He finishes his shift and welcomes the tranquility of the night, when he comes alive, free to carry out what he really wants to do.

Changing out of his white coat, Jimin soon finds himself at a familiar warehouse, backpack slung over his shoulders.

The smell of ferrous blood hits the moment he steps inside, accompanied by wailing and low sobs. Jimin pays them no mind and settles his bag on the large plastic folding table close by. Even the strongest tends to lose their when death looms near, Jimin’s seen it countless times by now. He starts to lay all the tools on the table instead - scissors, forceps, scalpels, still in the packaging, gleaming dimly under the glaring fluorescent light.

“How many?” He asks, and hears one of the men responding hesitantly from behind him.

“Four.”

“The money?”

The man walks up with a garbage bag filled with cash, and drops it on the floor with a resolute thud.

Jimin eyes the man, a timid looking kid really, scanning the blood smear on his body and his trembling hands, “You’re Jungkook, the one that called me?”

The boy nods, eyes flickering under the dark bangs.

Jimin flutters his hand, “You’ll do for tonight. Follow my orders, if you pass out and someone dies during the surgery, I'm not giving the money back.”

He tosses a large roll of plastic wrapping to the man and gestures at the second large table next to them, “Cover it up and let’s start with the gun wounds.”

This is Jimin’s second life, the one outside of the confines of the hospital - he goes by the alias of Icarus at night, and for 20,000,000 KRW per patient, answers to any call.

By the time he finishes and walks out of the warehouse, the city is already lit by bright sunlight. He peels off the bloody long sleeve and tosses it into the bag, then checks his phone - still a few hours before his shift at the hospital, just enough for a shower. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders, at least there were no fatalities tonight. The weight of the garbage bag comforts him, but even he can’t deny the other sense of satisfying in his heart.

They were criminals living outside of the laws, deemed to be unworthy to be saved by the likes of the hospital he works at. But he saved them, and that’s what a being a doctor is about, isn’t it? To save lives without imposing judgment on them.

Back at the hospital, with sunlight streaming through the pristine oversized windows, and the fragrance of fresh flowers permeating the expansive lobby, Jimin is informed by the senior doctor that he’s been promoted - all his shifts will be at the prestigious VIP wing from now on, with a fleet of nurses and attendance at his beck and call.

Jimin is reminded, however, that there’s one room in the VIP wing that’s of the utmost importance to the hospital. The patient in that room donates a staggering amount annually to the hospital, and it will be Jimin’s job now to ensure everything runs smoothly.

That night, after the initial excitement has dissipated, Jimin stands outside of the special room alone, feeling curiosity piquing within him.

The truth is, not many doctors have even seen the inside of the room. The few that have stay mum about it, never wanting to elaborate.

“What’s the room like?” People would ask. The doctor would shrug. Confidentiality agreement, but of course.

“And the patient?”

“Ah yes, the Little Prince.” The doctor would say, but the voice is monotoned and dispirited.

Just like everyone else, Jimin has always wondered what monstrosity lies behind that locked door. What deranged and sickly individual, stashed away forever.

He types in the password on the keypad, and walks in, note board in hand.

The lights are dimmed, air stagnant with the distinct tinge or artificial sanitization. Various equipment hum and blink, and tall frosted glass partitions block his vision. Jimin keeps walking, deeper into the middle of the expansive room. He can see it now, a figure on the bed, in all white, eyes closed and face serene.

The Little Prince.

Jimin pauses by the bed, right next to the pale face in slumber, and starts to go through the record on the board. Kim Taehyung, 22, admitted for repeated acute heart failures, the last episode resulted in a failed surgery and coma. The report is surprisingly brief, and the crease between Jimin’s brows deepen as he flips through everything over and over.

It makes no sense, none of it. This can’t be it, surely some documents are missing.

He glances at the patient next to him, lifeless and frail, and spots wetness by the eyelashes - a tear, suspended on the skin with an eerie translucent sheen.

Before he can stop himself, his hand reaches in and thumbs the tear away.

Jimin drags the head nurse Hoseok away for a conversation in private.

“What the hell is going on? How long has he been here like this?”

“Who?” Hoseok averts his eyes.

“You know what I’m talking about, this is insane. Heart failures do not produce coma, even if something freaky happened during his last surgery, why is there daily administration of Amytal and Diazepam? You’re not trying to heal him, you’re - we’re -“

“Doctor Park.” Hoseok interrupts him and sighs, “Doctor Park, you’re now permanent staff at the most critical wing of the best hospital in Seoul. This is a job that every doctor in the city dreams of. Finish your shift, go celebrate, maybe we can ease into your work slowly -“

“Don’t brush me off, answer my questions, Hoseok, or I’ll have to talk to the head of the hospital.”

Hoseok meets his eyes, “How much do you know about the Kim family?” He pauses before continuing, “They monopolize banking in Korea, and practically own this hospital by now. Taehyung is the oldest son, admitted to the hospital moments after his parents died in an accident.” Hoseok’s eyes are dark and stern, “Doctor Park, for all our sakes, please don’t mess this up. Keep your mouth shut and do your job, and in a few years, you can move out to become the head of hospital like every other doctor before you that have worked in this wing. Think it over.”

Jimin purses his lips and turns silent.

He goes about his shifts, taking note of all the routines regarding Taehyung. And one night, after most staffs have gone home, Jimin tells the one night nurse of the wing that he’ll administer the meds to Taehyung. “Go take a nap, it’s fine, this stuff is so boring even I can manage on my own, right?” Jimin flashes her a charming smile and watches as her expression softens.

He sets the anesthetics aside, turns all the alarms off the monitors, and sits beside Taehyung, waiting in silence, for the residual drugs to wear off.

Jimin’s asleep with his head slumped over Taehyung’s arm, when he feels a tiny tremor. He snaps his head up, and feels a jolt when he sees the set of bright eyes staring right at him. The coldness in the gaze pierces right through him. Taehyung’s lips tremble and part, as feeble gasps escape, muted but insistent.

“It’s ok. You’re fine, it’s just the drugs you’re feeling.” Jimin reaches in to place a hand gingerly over his arm.

Taehyung blinks but continues, eyes cold and lips repeating the same words over and over.

Save me.

❂

Jimin switches out the anesthetics for Taehyung the next day, to something with a lighter dosage and wears off much quicker, claiming it’s better for the patient’s health. He brings small gifts for the night nurse and convinces her to take long breaks from time to time.

Taehyung’s condition is just as bad as Jimin has suspected. It takes some practice for him to gain the strength and cohesion to speak, even more exercises to move his limbs. His muscles have all regressed, and body constantly at the brink of collapsing. But there’s something about Taehyung, an innate sense of grit that pushes through and refuses to fade back into the dark.

“It’s all because of my brother, you know?” He speaks suddenly one day, wincing as Jimin moves his leg in gentle motions.

Jimin hums - Kim Minho has never shown up at the hospital before, the photos of him online always appear diplomatic and impersonal.

“Much easier this way, telling all the members of the executive board that I’m ‘under treatment’ here, sending over documents that supposedly I review and sign off on. He eliminated me without even batting an eye.” Taehyung’s voice is icy.

“Rotate your foot.” Jimin commands, and gets a glare from Taehyung, “Don’t give me that look, I know you can do it. And I’m your doctor, not a cop. I’ll build you back up, make sure you can get out of here alive. What you do to him is none of my business.”

Taehyung in a breath and grunts as he moves his foot clumsily, and snaps back, “Sorry to break it to you, but you’re in this as deep as anyone can be. Three years, three ing years he trapped me in this god damn prison. I got nobody left, no one I can trust except you. So pick a side, you’re either with me or against me.”

The flint of arrogance in Taehyung’s eyes irritate him. Abruptly, he drops the hands supporting Taehyung’s leg, earning an indignant groan out of him, “I don’t think you’re in a position to challenge anyone.”

The light swirls in Taehyung’s eyes, as he scans Jimin and murmurs, “Tell me, why are you helping me? What do you want out of this?”

Jimin blocks out the muddled thoughts on his mind, and pushes the word out despite the disdain, “Money.”

A scoff. “Well, that makes it very simple then. Two billion wons, half when you get me out, the other half when I make my brother pay for everything he’s done to me.”

Jimin purses his lips and responds coldly, “Fine.”

Taehyung doesn’t bring up his revenge plan again after that day, to Jimin’s relief. The time they spend together every night is simple. Taehyung asks for expensive lotions, and jutes out his lips when Jimin says it’s the nurse’s job to lotion him. And he wants books, mostly of the fairytale kind. “Because life is cruel as it is, reading should be about escaping.” There’s a gentle lilt to his voice that softens Jimin’s heart.

He can’t say no. Taehyung has so few things now, just a few hours everyday, before his eyes are filled with fear again. as Jimin injects the drugs into the IV drip. So Jimin buys the lotion that costs more than he ever thought lotions could cost, and rubs it into Taehyung’s delicate skin gently while Taehyung flips through the books with a satisfying grin on his lips. Some nights, he finds himself sitting in bed, reading out loud the journey of the lost rabbit finding his way home, with Taehyung leaning into his arm struggling to stay awake.

“Time to sleep.” Jimin whispers.

Taehyung rubs his eyes, voice muted, “One more page, please. One more. I don’t want to sleep, it gets so dark and lonely...” His words would trail off, scrunched up face relaxing slowly as his eyes close. And Jimin would lower him slowly, tucking him in and packing everything away.

Taehyung deserves to be free, to be out of this glorified prison once and for all.

Jimin looks through the numbers of his other phone, the one he used only at night, and types up a text.

The call comes in a day’s time, the voice quiet and timid, “I-Icarus?”

“Hey Jungkook. I know this goes against everything we’ve agreed upon, so feel free to hang up any time.” Jimin speaks slowly, making every word count.

“Um, what is it that you need?”

Jimin answers carefully, “I need a favor. Need to sneak someone out of the hospital. A diversion, I suppose.”

Silence. Jimin gulps and adds, “Look, I can give you back all the money I’ve made from you guys. This thing has to work. If I fail, I don’t know where they’d send him, or if he gets to live at all. Please, I could give you more- “

“No, it’s ok, really.” The voice is gentle, making him pause, “It’s ok. You’ve saved so many of us, not just our clan, but other ones too. Before you helped us, getting hurt was almost worse than death, being cut open by people who had no clue what they were doing… We are indebted to you, I am. Just text me the details and I’ll be there.”

Jimin pauses at the words, feeling gratitude bubbling up from within. It’s a strange sensation, having been alone for so long, and he’s suddenly tongue tied. He lets silence fill up the space in between again, before finally responding, “Thanks. And I never got to tell you my real name, it’s Jimin.”

He hears a small sigh from the other side, as Jungkook murmurs before hanging up, “Good luck, Jimin. I hope it all works out for you.”

A week passes, and it’s another unassuming Sunday night at the hospital. Inside Taehyung’s room though, the atmosphere is decidedly different. Jimin’s sitting by the bed and checking through his backpacks, counting all the pills and injections, his dark jeans and white tee peeking through the standard white coat.

“You sure you didn’t forget anything? You’ve only checked for like, oh I dunno, a hundred times.” Taehyung pipes up next to him, voice casual and teasing.

Jimin frowns, “If I do forget something, you’ll be the one suffering, so I wouldn’t jinx it if I were you.”

A scoff, “Whatever, as long as I get out of here. Just one breath outside, one real breath. I’d trade it for any pain in the world.”

Strong words for someone that’s barely alive, Jimin muses inwardly. Taehyung’s face is sunken in the dim light, arms covered in bandages and bruises. At best, he looks like a ghost from another world, something meant to be extinguished.

But those eyes, burning with such intense will, etch onto Jimin’s mind.

Suddenly, he hears clamour outside, muffled voices ebbing and flowing on top of each other. He turns to face Taehyung, “It’s time, you ready?”

“You have no idea.” There’s a small smirk by Taehyung’s lips, as a faint blush paints his cheeks. He drapes his arm over Jimin’s shoulder and leans in.

There’s no weight to Taehyung, as Jimin plops him up and steps out of the room slowly but determinedly. He hears pained gasps under Taehyung’s breath, and feels his arm grasping onto him tightly.

Down the hallway, Jimin hears a familiar voice, surprising him with the authoritative tone, “I’d like to be checked in immediately.” A loud thud, and the nurses scream.

“Please, sir, you need to put that gun away. This is the VIP wing, please go back to the regular emergency section. We’ve already called security.”

“I’m not leaving until you check me in right here.”

Jimin follows the noise, and sees Jungkook in the distance with three more men behind him, dressed in all black and with an assured aggressiveness that he’s never seen before.

Jimin grins and resumes his focus back towards the exit. Taehyung’s feet drag on the floor weakly, as his breath turns erratic and laboured.

This won’t do, it’s taking way too long.

“Hold on.” Jimin comments.

“What?” Taehyung murmurs under his breath.

“Hold onto me, now.”

“I don’t think - woh!” Taehyung gasps out loud, as Jimin lifts under his legs and sweeps him up between his arms. He curses but loops his arms around Jimin’s neck reluctantly, “This is not a part of our plan.”

“Yeah well, we also don’t have all day.” Jimin responds, knowing he’s earning an eye roll in return without having to look.

He picks up in pace, striding through the hallway, turning and reaching for the unassuming emergency exit at the end, the one unlocked for the nurses to take secret smoke breaks. The refreshing night air hits him on the other side, but Jimin doesn’t slow down, and instead rushes towards the car he’s parked outside.

He tosses Taehyung into the passenger seat, and steps on the pedal determinedly. As the lit up hospital building disappears in the rear view mirror, Jimin finally lets out a stuttered exhale, “There goes my job, I bet they’ll realize you’re missing within half an hour.”

No response. He eyes Taehyung, and turns silent when he spots the tears streaming down his cheeks. The streetlights zoom by as they speed through, sliding off Taehyung’s pale profile and his fingers gripping tightly onto the edge of his hospital gown.

Freedom. Something so simple, so basic, yet you only realize how painfully precious it is when you’ve lived without it for so long.

Taehyung is finally free.

❂

The car zooms past city streets, until the countryside begins to sprawl out all around them, shrouded by the serenity of the night. The road turns into gravel paths, until they stop in front of a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

“My friend Jin’s grandparents use to live here. We could stay for a day or two.” Jimin walks through the dusty house, armed with a flashlight in hand.

The furnitures are covered in white fabrics, blurry outlines resembling shadows of the past. Taehyung pipes up in the dark, “You texted Namjoon?”

“Yeah, he’s coming with all the documents in the morning.”

“Plenty of time then.” Taehyung’s voice is laced with weariness.

After administering all the meds, they collapse in the worn out double bed together. Jimin can feel Taehyung’s arm trembling as he drifts in and out of sleep, so he begins to talk in a hushed voice, of the stores they read together - the rabbit toy that longs for home, the splinter of glass that turns little boys heartless, and the dying match-seller. Taehyung curls into him, head by his chest, fingers tracing lazy lines on Jimin’s arm.

“You have to sleep eventually, you know.” Jimin whispers.

“Not yet. Tell me more stories.”

“I’m out, that’s everything we read.” Jimin feels his eyelids droop.

“Tell me something about you then. Just a little more, please…”

Jimin pauses, feeling the warmth of Taehyung’s shallow breaths radiating through the fabric of his shirt. He starts to talk about med school, of unassuming memories from the past, then Busan, and his parents and sister there who he sends money to. His rambling words are whisper quiet and drift in and out, as their hearts thrum contently next to each other.

Jimin’s unsure when he succumbs to the drowsiness. He’s deep asleep when there’s a tug on his sleeve. He holds onto Taehyung’s hand and mumbles, “Go back to sleep, we are safe.”

The hand slips away. Jimin grumbles and drapes an arm over, frowning at the empty space next to him in bed. He squints his eyes open.

There's faint light filtering through the curtains, and a figure by the window. Jimin sighs and gets up to stand beside him.

The sun is by the horizon, casting the world in a shimmery amber glow. Taehyung’s hand is on the glass, glistening eyes widened at the sight of the sunrise. He turns towards Jimin, and rasps, “Thank you.”

There are golden reflections in his eyes, and Jimin is in rapture, can't look away. Taehyung’s gaze glides across his face gently, pausing at his lips, before leaning in. The world seems to pause for the moment, as they dwell in the kiss, shrouded in the serene morning rays.

When they finally part, they are both silent for a while, until Taehyung pipes up again, eyes gazing into the horizon, “My brother will retaliate, probably already working on it. He's gonna throw every card at this, try to make the board question my sanity, try to take all the power away from me and lock me up again.”

“What can we do?”

The light in Taehyung’s eyes flickers, “I need someone dependable, with good reputation so the board will trust. I need an alliance so ironclad and believable that people will trust my abilities through his strength.”

He turns to face Jimin, and speaks firmly, “Marry me.”

Jimin gapes at the words, and stutters out a response, “What - what do you mean?”

“Marry me, then your claim to all the family assets will be unquestioned. Minho may be able to cast doubt on the state of my wellbeing, but the executive board will warm up to you, the brilliant doctor who cured me and will support me in running the family business.”

“You’re out of your mind, I'm not - I'm not getting into all this -”

Taehyung retorts, voice stern, “You’re already in this. Your career is done for, there's probably a warrant out for you right now. This marriage doesn't have to be permanent - one year, give me one year and I'll settle everything, then you can walk with enough money for the rest of your -”

“Stop.” Jimin frowns at the words, and backs away from the window, “I said I'm not getting dragged into your revenge. All I wanted to do was to save you…”

Taehyung stares at him wordlessly, eyes impassive. Then slowly, his expression softens. His shoulders droop as he steps towards Jimin, teething biting into his lower lip. The hard gaze dims and is tinged with vulnerability. When he speaks again, his voice is muted and pleading, “I can't do this alone, won't survive him. Please, I need your help. I have nobody else left in this world. And I can't go back to the way it was. You don't know what it felt like, too weak to even open my eyes, trapped in my own mind with no way to escape…”

Taehyung’s brows are pinched, and eyes misty. It clenches at Jimin’s heart, how frail he looks again, head dipping low and gaunt torso swimming in Jimin’s t-shirt. Silence fills the space between them, until Jimin finally speaks again, voice exasperated, “If I do it, it would be for your safety, not for anything else.”

Taehyung glances at him, and leans into his arm gingerly, “Yes, I need you, please, I need your help. Please don't push me away.”

Jimin pushes out a stuttered exhale. The warmth of Taehyung’s skin irritates him, inexplicably. He finds his arms reaching out slowly to embrace him, as he steadies his breath and clears his muddled thoughts.

One year...

❂

Namjoon was the Kim’s family lawyer for years, until Minho fired him right after the car accident, after he delivered the parents’ will to leave most of their assets to Taehyung. Namjoon arrives that morning, armed with all the paperwork Taehyung has requested -media announcements, board communications, everything Taehyung needs to solidify his “full recovery and immediate return as key owner to the family assets”. Conveniently, there’s also a copy of pre-nup that’s already drafted and ready for Jimin’s review.

The rest is a whirlwind.

They move back into Taehyung’s parents’ estate by the edge of Seoul, an old brick mansion with celadon porcelain on lacquered end tables, and Joseon court painting adorning the interior walls. The wedding occurs in the backyard in two week’s time, under the lush branches of the ancient ginkgo trees. The crowd is small, consisting of long time friends and business associates that have sworn loyalty to Taehyung. Jimin tells himself not to get wrapped up in the emotions - it's just a formality, a step to legitimize the marriage.

But why does it feel so real? Why does his heart thrum nervously as Taehyung walks down the aisle in a billowing white silk shirt? Why does he fumble with the gold ring in his pocket, the one his mom brought up to Seoul and passed onto him with misty eyes?

And when Taehyung whispers “I do” tenderly, and leans in for a kiss, Jimin smells the scent of blooming plumeria by his hair, and feels the radiant warmth of his lips seeping into his heart. He closes his eyes, feeling the twinkling lights all around them linger on his peripheral, and tugs Taehyung’s slender torso into his embrace.

And later, in the privacy of their bedroom, as Taehyung writhes under him, into his skin between hot gasps, Jimin finds his self-restraints collapsing. A flickering flame burns within him, spilling over and threatening to devour Taehyung whole, to pin those slender wrists back and to claim him forever.

They lay in the dark afterwards, sated and tangled up together. Jimin’s eyelids droop as he hears Taehyung uttering the three words that make his heart tremble. He flinches and kisses the crown of Taehyung’s head thoughtfully.

Whatever it is, whatever emotions he dares not name out loud yet, Jimin is determined - Taehyung is family now, a part of him, and he'll do whatever it takes to ensure his safety.

Jimin becomes a member of the executive board, and starts visiting the Kim’s business headquarter, helping to regain control of operations over the next months. Taehyung brings back Yoongi, a shrewd accountant with in depth knowledge of the company finances, and assigns him to work alongside Jimin and Namjoon. They start digging up evidences against Minho - losses, inefficiencies, a legally questionable move here and there. The board passes an unanimous vote to demote Minho from VP to district manager.

Everything goes smoothly as planned - the board adores Jimin, Namjoon and Yoongi start to take over running of the businesses, and Taehyung’s health is restoring, cheeks no longer gaunt and with a pretty glow.

But slowly, Taehyung begins to change.

He starts bringing home friends, the shallow and superficial kind that Jimin doesn’t want to have any word with. Some nights Taehyung doesn’t come home at all, and when he does eventually, he reeks of alcohol and other things, has to be carried to bed and would stay there for days.

Jimin hopes it’s a phase, tries to wait it out. He becomes more concerned when Namjoon talks to him in private one day.

“Did you know he has a few private detectives working on Minho right now? I think they found some unsavoury stuff, and Taehyung wants to go public with it.”

Jimin frowns, “There’s nothing I can do, he’s never listened to me. It’ll pass, it’ll all be over eventually.”

Namjoon looks at him thoughtfully, “Are you sure? Do you know all the other people he’s been targeting also? I get the feeling that he’s just starting…”

Jimin turns silent. Namjoon looks away but continues, “You know, the problem with Taehyung is he’s always had trust issues. Why wouldn’t he, after being hurt so many times in life? You’re prolly the only person close to his heart now. Talk to him, please, for all our sakes, before it’s too late.”

❂

One night, Taehyung seems to be in a better mood. They make dinner together, a simple carbonara dish with fresh basil, just the way Taehyung prefers. After a bottle of champagne, Jimin finds Taehyung saddled over his thighs on the couch, eyes sparkling with excitement and giggles spilling out freely. It’s so rare to catch him relaxed and himself nowadays, Jimin almost doesn’t want to disturb the moment. But he thinks of Namjoon’s words, and reluctantly starts to probe, “It’s nice to see you so happy, been so long.”

Taehyung pouts and leans into his chest, “‘cause you never play with us. It’s like you’re always in the back corner judging me or something.”

Jimin cards through his hair gently, “I know you’re trying to let loose, I’m just worried, can’t help it.”

“What you worried about?”

“Your health, your future, everything I suppose.”

Taehyung’s fingers swirl on Jimin’s chest, as he comments, “Why would you worry? I mean, you’ll be here, right? You’ll take care of me, so why worry.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Jimin’s voice is quiet.

Taehyung’s gaze turns cold, as he props himself up with one arm, “Hmm, can’t even say it, can you?”

He pauses, seemingly mulling over the thoughts on his mind, before biting his lips and continuing, voice turning flat, “Whatever, I won’t beg, whenever you want to ditch, you’re free to go.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Jimin extends out a hand and touches Taehyung’s arm gingerly, “I do care about you, I mean - I can’t - I dunno - damn it, Tae, I really do care. It hurts me to see you damaging your health so carelessly. You’re not even healed, maybe never will be. And all these people you hang out with - this is not you -“

“Yeah, how would you know? I was drugged and shoved into that hospital at 19, this IS how I was before all of it happened. Sorry for disappointing you but I’ve always been this shallow.” Taehyung retorts carelessly, and moves away from his touch.

Jimin sighs, “You are so much more. You have grit, optimism, and so much love to give. Why are we even fighting, we’ve already gone through the worst, the rest should be easy…”

Taehyung averts his gaze, “If I’m so great, then why can’t you even say the words? Just admit it, you’re afraid to love me because you know you’ll be gone soon. You can trick everyone else, but I know what you’ve agreed to in the pre-nup, “one time payment to be completed at the end of the contract period”. There was no love in that contract.”

Jimin hisses back a response, “You wrote that contract, and dropped the whole marriage thing on me like some sort of a trap. You knew I couldn’t say no to you, when you were in your worst state… I can’t promise you love, can’t promise you anything because of this whole arrangement. It feels wrong - all of it - I can’t tell which part of this is real anymore…”

Taehyung glares at him, “So this doesn't feel real to you? Well, lemme assure you, it’s very real to me. I dream about my parents, and I still feel those moments when my mind was awake but my body was trapped, like a ing useless toy.” he inches towards Jimin with a flash of coldness in his eyes, “Do you really want to know why I’m so happy today? Well, it turns out Minho has some 18 year old pregnant girlfriend stashed away. We made her a deal and she’s willing to talk, the media articles have all be drafted for tomorrow. He won’t be able to snap back from this one, not when his own love betrays him like this.” A smirk plays by his lips, making Jimin flinch and look away.

After a long pause, Jimin gets up from the couch and finally speaks, “I’ll ask you one time, and one time only. Tae, don’t do it, please. It’s enough. You’ve already won. Any further is just… I know you have plans for others too, I’ve seen you edging out other people in the firm, plotting for their falls…”

Taehyung stares at him wordlessly, and sinks into the couch. His hair is ruffled, lips pink and eyes glistening like alluring jewels, but the words that eventually hiss out chill Jimin to the bones, “I could’ve had him killed, but it feels so - cheap, so feeble, compared to the pain he’s put me through. No, they all deserve to suffer slowly, to fall from grace and be sold out by the ones they trust the most. Death is the easy way out, I’ll ensure he lives a very long life, long enough to regret what he did to me everyday.”

Jimin blinks hard and feels his breath hitch, “Tae, please, listen to me, it’s an obsession. I got you out of the hospital, but now I realize you’re still as trapped as you were back then, trapped in revenge, in the pain.” His heart is sinking, and the air is suffocatingly still, making him want to scream. Despair looms on his mind, but Jimin pushes it aside and speaks, “Please, let’s just go somewhere else, just you and I, hmm? Namjoon and Yoongi can watch over the business, you deserve a fresh start, and you’ll never be alone, I promise. What do you say, love?”

The light swirls in Taehyung’s eyes, and his lips quiver. But his long fingers reach for his lips, and the gaze dims, “I told you before, you’re either with me or against me. It seems to me that you’ve finally made your choice. Tell me again, husband, why did you save me? Is your answer the same as the first time I asked you?”

The iciness in his voice pierces right through Jimin. Suddenly, he feels the distance between them, so close yet so far, separately by an unbreachable divide. He realizes, that in the end, maybe he never truly saved Taehyung.

Jimin forces out a shaky exhale and responds, “I can’t be a part of this, not when you are destroying families and playing with people’s lives like this. I trust you’re safe now, and no longer need me.” his glance towards Taehyung turns sorrowful, as the final words escape his lips in a murmur, “I saved you because of a feeling, a feeling I’ve had since the first time I saw you in that room, alone and fighting for your life. But maybe I was wrong the whole time. Maybe we can’t build a life on feelings alone.”

  Because feelings are fleeting, evanescent soap bubbles that shimmer and burst as they drift away.

Jimin walks out of the room with heavy steps, never turning back. As he drives away from the house, he watches the blurry outline of the brick mansion disappear in the rear view mirror, fading into the dark. Was there a stir of the curtains, a lone silhouette by the window? Jimin’s not sure, and frankly, too worn out to care.

❂

Time slips away, faster than anyone could grasp. One blink, and six months fly by. At the east fringe of Busan, where the hustle of the metropolis is eased by the laid-back pace of the fishing villages, there’s a small clinic tucked away behind the main street leading to the pier.

The fluorescent lights are glaring, and the AC hung by the window threatens to break down at any moment, but the mood within the clinic is decided mellow.

“Dr. Park, the cold compress you gave me doesn’t work at all. My foot is still swollen, look, it’s - it’s like a pork hock now! All my neighbors are making fun of me…”

Jimin’s smile is unfaltered, “Halmoni, I already told you twice, I can’t give you anti-inflammatory drugs because of your blood pressure. The swelling will go away in a few days, I promise.” He clears his throat loud enough to startle the drowsy young man seated by clinic door, who squints his eyes open.

“Here, another cold compress for you to take home. Please stop by in a few days if it doesn’t get any better.” Jimin bows and gestures at Jungkook, who smiles sweetly at the old grandma and stands up to help her out.

That toothy grin, always a favorite with the senior crowd. Jimin sighs out of relief and plops his feet up by edge of the desk.

He surveys the tiny clinic with the faded walls, and muses - well, when he wished to get away from it all, maybe he outdid himself just a tad bit. The AC unit kicks in and groans loudly, as Jimin stares at the dark stains of condensation down the window sill absently.

“Hyung, I have a feeling we won’t break even again this month.” A voice pipes up at the door, and Jungkook steps back in, yawning, “At least the grandmas are covered by insurance, all the other ahem charity work you do at night are pretty much free. You know, the twenty million won rate you use to charge me seems like a good idea now. The smell of ramyeon is starting to make me sick…”

“Hey, I told you this wasn’t gonna be cushy.” Jimin rolls his eyes. He doesn’t need to remind Jungkook that they have to stay lowkey, they both know why. Maybe he should’ve never texted Jungkook that one last time before leaving, heck, maybe they should’ve gone to Ecuador or somewhere even further like he wanted to. Jimin scrunches his nose at the muddled thoughts.

But there was some damn pull that made him stop in Busan, he tells himself it’s family.

Of course.

He eyes Jungkook, who’s leaning by the door frame with a pocket knife in hand, picking at his nails casually. “Put that down, Guk I swear you’re the worst nurse I’ve ever had.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, but retracts the knife slowly, “Hyung, how many times do I have to tell you, I’m not a nurse, just helping you because -”

“Because you don’t want to study? You haven’t opened your textbooks in days, I thought you wanted to pass all the exams and go to college.”

Jungkook groans, “Man, you sound just like the dad I never had. Look, old man, books and I - well books and I, we just don’t see eye to eye ok -” His long passionately speech is suddenly cut short by a tap on his back.

Jungkook jumps and barks back, “Hey watch it, what’s with the - ohhhh...” his voice trails off, and he snaps back to stare at Jimin in bewilderment.

“What is it?” Jimin eyes him warily, “Please step aside, nurse Jeon, so the next patient can walk through, thank you.”

Jungkook gulps nervously, and steps aside.

Jimin’s diplomatic grin freezes the moment he sees the figure stepping through the door.

Tall, slender, loose white tee and stark black glasses worth probably more than the entire clinic. A click of the tongue, “Nice dig, quaint.”

That familiar lilt in the voice, teasing and nonchalant. Jimin feels his heart sink.

“I ahem, I’m gonna go make some ramyeon…” Jungkook back away onto the street cautiously.

Jimin watches as Taehyung pace around casually, before finally grabbing a seat in front of him. “So, a year is up, and I figured maybe you want to settle the contract.” His tosses a stack of paper onto the desk.

His eyes are hidden behind the glasses, unreadable. Jimin curbs the simmering exasperation within, “You could’ve mailed it.”

“True.”

The silence is tense. Taehyung breaks it eventually, “How have you been?”

“Good. You?” Jimin thinks of the newspaper articles that he couldn’t help but searched for, there were never any mention of Minho’s scandal. But who knows, maybe they settled privately, he’s not so naive.

Taehyung hums, and changes subject, “Namjoon said he called you to negotiate terms of contract completion, but you never called back.”

Jimin frowns, “I don’t care about that stupid contract, and I don’t want the money. I thought I’ve made that clear.” His voice comes out harsher than he expected, surprising himself. Jimin notices Taehyung shifting and thumbing the gold ring on his finger absently, and looks away.

Another pause. When Taehyung finally speaks up, it’s quiet, as if he’s murmuring to himself, “You know, that book, Edward Tulane, I’ve never liked the ending.”

The lost bunny toy that tried to find its way home back to its owner. Memories flash across Jimin’s mind, of warm skin under the blanket, and reading out the words slowly and feeling the weight of Taehyung’s torso relaxing in his embrace. His heart betrays him and stirs.

Taehyung continues, “Edward found a new owner, but did he really change for the better? Or he’s still afraid to love, still stubborn and refusing to hope.”

Jimin stares at the stark black glasses, trying to decipher the emotions hidden behind, “Change takes time. And the story isn’t just about him, it’s about all the people he met on the journey, the small acts of kindness that they showed him along the way. Love goes both ways.”

Taehyung stammers, but slowly, he removes his glasses and comments, “I owe you an apology.” His eyes are red and misty, and suddenly Jimin is at a loss for words.

Taehyung chews on his lips and continues, “I’ve never understood love, guess I was never taught. It seems like - something you use to tie someone down with, when you want to keep them to yourself. I thought I loved you, I thought if I showed you my weakness, if I pleaded and offered you things in return, then… then that would be that.”

His fingers fidget, as he continues to speak, “I didn’t understand it until you left. Probably still don’t.”

Jimin sighs at the words, but stays silent.

“As you can probably tell, I didn’t do anything to Minho, or to anyone else. I thought that would plague me, that I’d lose sleep over letting them go so easily. But-” a self-deprecating laugh, “-it turns out, all of those thoughts, the burning need for justice, for revenge, they all fade away eventually. They are not what keeps me awake at night…”

“You know, when I was finally healthy and cleared of all the meds, the clarity was - I dunno - actually a little scary? I had nothing to hide behind, no dreams to retrieve back into anymore, just myself, my vain, shallow self that I can’t bare to look at. And I realize that in the end, the best moment of my life was not when I fought back against my brother, or when I gained control of everything again…” his lips tremble and voice falter, but he stiffens his lips and continues, “It’s when I was with you - being held, and finally felt safe enough to fall asleep...”

Jimin feels his heart split open at the words. Before he can respond, Taehyung wipes away the tears hastily and gets up, voice flat and impassive again, “But a contract is a contract. Time’s up and I don’t want to waste your time. Please, just answer Namjoon’s call and send him the signed documents.” he gestures at the clinic, “I’m sure you’re doing great things here to help people, the money will be well spent here.”

Jimin watches at Taehyung walks towards the door, back stiff and head held stubbornly high, the glasses back by his eyes, like a shield that blocks the emotions away from others.

He feels him slipping away again, and it reminds him of the darkness in the rear view mirror, and the hollowness in his heart that lingered ever since that day. Jimin blinks hard and pipes up, “Wait.”

He grabs the documents from the desk, grimacing at the glaring words on the first page - Declaration for Divorce. He shoves the paper into Taehyung’s hands, “Get rid of this, I don’t want to see it ever again.”

A sigh. “Now you’re just being stubborn. You know Namjoon will just keep sending it to you until you -“

Taehyung stops talking when Jimin grabs him by the shoulders carefully. They face each other, and Taehyung chews on his lips nervously, as Jimin reaches in to thumb away his tears behind the glasses.

They stand next to each other, and words suddenly feel so pale, so inadequate to express the myriad of emotions within Jimin, threatening to break out and be heard. Finally, he extracts his hands and keeps his voice casual, “I owe Jungkook a good meal, that kid has been starving for weeks.”

“Hmm?” Taehyung looks up in a daze.

“I’m thinking pasta - carbonara with some fresh basil, you know, the good stuff. Saturday night.” He averts his gaze, “Why don’t you stop by, I’m sure you’ve tracked down my address, if you could find this place.”

Taehyung in a sniffle, and stares at him, assessing, “Like, dinner?”

“Yeah, dinner.”

Jimin pauses, tracing Taehyung’s delicate features with his gaze, matching each detail to memory.

Finally, Taehyung purses his lips into a stiff grin, “I suppose I have to eat anyways.” He straightens his sunglasses, gives Jimin a tiny nod, and starts to walk away.

Jimin stands by the door of the shabby little clinic, with the unflattering fluorescent light and the faded white walls, watching as Taehyung’s silhouette blends into the crowd down the street.

Love takes root, when you least expect it. Feelings are evanescent, but love lingers, even when you’re too worn out to acknowledge it, when you think you no longer deserve it.

Jimin notices, for the first time, a branch of plumeria tree extending out of the neighbor’s fence. The lush leaves and white buds tremble in the wind. He closes his eyes, feeling the saccharine scent linger on his mind.